


Box Set

by spj



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Basketball, M/M, established coldwaveflash, pre atomic coldwaveflash, pre atomicwave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 19:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spj/pseuds/spj
Summary: Ray doesn't quite understand how Mick can want him,andBarry and Snart. Mick takes him to a basketball game and they start to figure things out.





	Box Set

**Author's Note:**

> um, hello  
> so i started and finished writing this at very different times haha  
> its just something silly so i hope you enjoy!
> 
> just in case it isn't very clear, it's established coldwaveflash, with mick wanting to bring ray in as well

**Box set:**  A formation in which four players align themselves as the four corners of a box. Often used for baseline out-of-bounds plays. 

 

When Barry approached Mick with the suggestion, Mick flat-out refused.

“I ain’t goin’,” he said while carefully mixing chocolate chips into his cake batter.

Barry pulled out his patented all-powerful puppy dog face, the one that sent Cisco into hysterics and Len into convulsions but rarely seemed to work on their resident pyromaniac for reasons science had yet to answer. Still, it was worth a try. He had a lot riding on this.

“No,” said Mick.

Barry quivered his lower lip.

Mick rolled his eyes and offered some cake batter for Barry to taste. With a sigh, seeing as that seemed to be the most concession he was going to get, Barry dropped the act and took the spoon from Mick a bit sulkily. “I already got three tickets for us, though,” he lamented, taking a lick. “Oooh, the cake’s just right, Mick, you’re a whiz.”

He hadn’t expected anything to change from Mick’s corner, in spite of flattery, but Mick seemed thoughtful as he took his spatula back. “I’ll go,” he decided, but before Barry could get his hopes up, Mick amended, “With Haircut.”

“What?” Barry blurted out. “Why? Why can’t he come with the three of us?”

Mick shook his head and smiled mysteriously. “Because,” he said.

Barry noted the appearance of teeth in Mick’s smile, and, considering his options, wisely backed out of the room before Mick got a torch in his hand.

 

Mick hated being in crowds that he couldn’t straight-up murder – like Nazis. Too much temptation, too little reason not to do it. But if he _did_ kill people randomly, Len would get mad, and Barry would do the thing where he starts to emanate an aura similar to that of a serial killer, and it’s really not worth it.

Mick checked his ticket. Row R, seat 78. He was early – half an hour early, actually – and no one goes that early to a local basketball game, but, predictably, he found Ray already bouncing in his seat, a pile of limbs, foam fingers, and nervous energy.

“Hey, Mick!” he greeted. Mick was impressed that he seemed to only be twitching slightly. “I was so surprised when you asked me to the game with you! I don’t know much about basketball, so I just got some paraphrenia from online – go Miners! right? Hey, where’s Snart and Barry; I thought they were always with you? I mean, they don’t _always_ have to be with you, just I expected – oh, that’s a bad expectation, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply – although I guess I did, but I didn’t _mean_ to be rude about it, I’m sorry, um, I guess what I mean to say is – why?”

Mick contemplated Ray.

The man was still a bit sensitive regarding the him-plus-Len-Mick-Barry thing. Once Len came back, Ray had removed himself from the equation with a lot of good-willed blustering and genuine well-wishes for Their Future As A Twosome that made Len gag and Mick smack the moron upside the head, but despite the only partially sarcastic standing invitation Len had extended for Ray’s company, Ray had stayed clear out of the way.

Things got even worse once Len roped in their favorite scarlet speedster, who, as it turned out, was worse than a soaking wet Chihuahua. He was a vicious little nipper and possessive to boot, more than Len, even, who was so domineering that he had planted GPS trackers and recording bugs on Lisa all throughout her teenage years. (Woe be the day she finds out.) Once Barry had decided that Len and Mick were his, it was all bared teeth and low growls at anyone who even looked like they might take Len or Mick away.

Ray, specifically.

Lisa said there was some bad blood between Barry and Ray over some tiny blonde chick – to which Mick had to say, _which_ tiny blonde chick – that Barry had never gotten over.

That was stupid. Mick didn’t care at all about Barry’s feud with Ray, which was probably due to some dumbshit insecurity about Barry’s own desirability. This is something Mick would not compromise on.

Mick wasn’t a fucking idiot, despite what Len and Barry seemed to assume – (sometimes, still, and every time it still… hurt). He knew how to read an atmosphere when he saw one, and when that atmosphere was choked in thinly-veiled threats and nervous sweat, it would take a spectacular fucking moron to _not_ be able to read it.

Because when Mick was with Ray, he was a Different Mick. One that wasn’t so predictable, one that wasn’t interested in being Len’s pawn, although he still called Len ‘Boss,’ one that knew the meaning of the word _team_ and didn’t throw up while saying it. Mick with Ray was a Mick that didn’t go according to plan. And Len didn’t like it when things don’t go according to plan.

Well, tough shit, Len. Because Mick _was_ different now. He _knew_ he was different, different as anyone would be after living hundreds and thousands of lives, all himself, without a single fucking person to thank for his return besides himself. If Ray symbolized a different Mick to Len, well, that’s what he meant to Mick too. Len was everything before Mick died. Ray was everything after Mick was born again.

And if there’s anything the Time Masters taught him, it’s that if he tried hard enough, he could have his cake and eat it too.

(He’d always followed the plan, boss. He’s tired of waiting.

He’s gonna take what he fucking wants.)

Mick grunted and dropped onto his chair. His coat spilled all over half of Ray’s seat and half of the seat on the other side, too. “It’s fine, Haircut. Calm down and sit.”

Ray blinked. “Um,” he said. “Okay.” He stilled.

“So,” Ray said when Mick hadn’t said anything for thirty seconds – a real record for Palmer, “You like basketball?”

“No,” Mick said. “And neither does Len,” he added, ignoring Ray’s flinch.

“O-Oh. Then I’ve gotta warn you, I’m gonna be completely useless, ‘cause I don’t know the first thing about basketball. But I did look up the Miners’ colors; I think I can cheer for the right team – ”

“Haircut,” Mick said patiently. “Look.”

Ray’s eyes followed the length of Mick’s finger down to where –

“Oh, hey, is that Barry? And _Snart_?” was all Ray managed to get out before Mick preemptively clamped a hand over his mouth.

“We’re not here,” Mick said. “Shut your hole.”

Ray mumbled what sounded like an apology and Mick let him go.

Ray managed to stay quiet for about four seconds. “But, _why_?” he asked, plaintively twisting his foam fingers.

Mick grinned. “Watch and learn.”

 

Len, contrary to popular belief, did not sneer twenty-four-seven.

It’s just hard to tell when he was constantly being brought to places he didn’t want to go, like a _basketball game_.

“Scarlet, what is _this_ ,” he said, gesturing to the cheap seats and spilt beer. If his lip curled any higher, he’d be lifted straight up off his chair.

“Um, basketball?” Barry said.

Len raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Barry gestured effusively, saying, “Y’know, basketball? The game you play where you can only bounce the ball on the ground to move… and you have to shoot it through a hoop – ”

“I’m aware of the only profession in America in which African American men are considered valuable, yes,” Len sneered. “What I’m _unaware_ of is why you feel the need to bring me here. In case you haven’t noticed _Barry_ , I’m a _wanted criminal_.”

“That’s unusually self-aware for you.”

Len glared. “I’ve never lied about my profession. In fact, I seem to recall making it perfectly clear to you what Mick and I do; _you’re_ the one who suffers from intense heroism fantasies.”

“Hey! I’m an _actual_ superhero, okay, it’s literally the job title – ”

“Do remind me how much it pays, Scarlet – ”

“Um, excuse me?”

Both Barry and Len snapped around to see a young mother with two children poking their heads out curiously from behind her waist. “Our seats are behind you, can we get through?”

“Of course,” Len said, ever the gentleman. He stood up. “Our apologies.”

Barry was positive that if Len wasn’t as pretty as he was, the woman would have yelled at them. As it were, she smiled thinly, raking Len with an assessing look to determine if he was single or not.

Barry pouted. If it were up to him, he’d be all over Len, damn the consequences, but Len was touch-shy in public, and even more restrained without Mick to bring out the fire that Barry _knew_ Len possessed – speaking of which –

“And where _is_ Mick on this little adventure?” Len continued bitching. “I don’t see you trying to torture _him_.”

Barry, who had been about to twist around to look for his wayward boyfriend, snagged on the last two words Len said. “Wait,” said Barry. “I thought Mick would be the kinda guy who _likes_ basketball?”

Len snorted. “Not on your life. He’s a rugby fan. American sports are too tame.”

Barry winced. “Oh. Yeah.” That made a lot of sense.

Len breathed out through his nose and let his back hit the hard plastic backing of his chair. “I suppose if we’re going to waste two hours of our lives here, I might as well attempt not to die of boredom. Go on, tell me how this game works.”

 

“I _can’t_ believe this,” Ray said for the umpteenth time on his way back from the concession stands. He had gone to get them both a jumbo bag of popcorn because, as he put it, drama this good _needs_ popcorn.

Len was in the middle of gesticulating wildly at Barry. He wasn’t standing up, but it was a near thing. The woman and her two children who were supposed to be sitting next to Len and Barry had actually shifted aside two seats, and neither of them noticed.

They couldn’t hear what Len was saying, from this distance, but the strong gestures actually made the situation somewhat clear.

“Number 13 _clearly_ fouled, Barry!”

“He wasn’t anywhere _near_ Number 2! Didn’t even touch him! Not even a tiny bit! It’s not a foul if you don’t touch!”

“So purposefully tripping someone doesn’t count as touching? I’ll be glad to remember that the next time you show up to a heist wearing red then, Scarlet.”

“They were _literally_ not touching Len. 2 tripped on his own.”

“Do you perhaps need glasses? One of us is turning forty-five in a few months and I suppose it isn’t me, as I seem to have perfect vision.”

Ray shoveled popcorn into his mouth almost in a trance. “I’ve never seen Snart so… engaged.” Ray sounded fascinated.

Mick grunted in agreement, a cat-like smirk playing about his lips. He took a swig of his beer. “’S always satisfyin’ though, watchin’ him struggle.”

Ray shot a sideways look at Mick. “Yeah,” he agreed, a bit gingerly.

Mick snorted. “Y’ don’t always have to ask my permission to have an opinion on Snart. Or Allen,” he added. “I’m not their fuckin’ watchdog.”

“Of course not!” Ray said. Very loudly. Mick almost panicked for a second, thinking maybe Barry or Len would have heard them, but no, the idiots were as oblivious as ever, still bickering:

“And _that’s_ a violation.”

“Len, _no_ , you learned these rules _literally_ half an hour ago, you have _no idea how the game works_.”

“Go on, which one of us is the criminal mastermind? Which one of us single-handedly saved the world?”

“Single – s _ingle-handedly_? Since when did you – _neither_ of those things are _at all_ related to basketball!”

Ray nervously glanced back at Mick and shrank away slightly. “Of course not,” he said again at a more level volume now. “But still, I just. I guess I’m nervous. I know how much Snart and Barry mean to you, and I know they don’t really… like me. And how could it – _anything_ work if… if the two most important people in your life don’t like me?”

Mick scrutinized Ray for the second time. Then he stood up. “C’mon, Haircut. We’re leaving.”

“W-What?” Ray scrambled to collect all his paraphernalia and popcorn bags. “What about – ?”

Mick cut him off with an unimpressed stare. “You _that_ interested?”

Ray glanced back at Len and Barry, who were still arguing. Then, surprising both Mick and himself, he giggled. “I guess not.” He beamed up at Mick. “Where to next, teammate?”

They didn’t go that far, just the entry of the stadium.

It was a lot quieter out here. The ticket collectors were still milling around, chatting amongst themselves. No one paid them any mind when Mick pulled Ray into a secluded corner.

“H-Hey!” Ray said. “What’re you doing?”

“Answerin’ your questions,” Mick said.

That shut Ray up.

Mick took a deep breath. He still wasn’t any good at words, not even after thousands of years of being Kronos and Mick at the same time. He suspected that it was something that had to be taught, and not something he could just learn on his own – but there wasn’t time, and Ray was here _right now_. He’d have to try now.

“I brought you here so all of you idiots could be together,” he said. “They’re a part of my life, and _you’re_ a part of my life – you _made_ me who I am now, and they’re the ones who asked for all of me. They’ll get over it. Barry’s just sore over some ex-girl of his.” Mick scowled.

Ray kept staring at him, eyes locked on Mick’s. “Okay,” he said in a tiny voice.

Mick kept going. “We left because I don’t need to be around them twenty-four-seven – they can argue by themselves and I don’t have to be a part of it. And where we’ll go next….” Mick shook his head. “I dunno. But it _is_ fine and it _will be_ fine. So stop stressing out.”

Ray, blessedly, was quiet, the big gears in his brain clearly spinning with hope behind his shiny eyes. Mick waited. Ray’ll work it out; he’s smart.

Mick could see the moment that Ray figured out where Mick was at, because Ray’s eyes flickered down towards Mick’s lips.

“So you’re saying – ”

“Yes.”

“That we can try – ”

“Yes.”

“And you think it’ll – ”

“Yes.”

“So can I kiss – ”

“ _Yes_.”

Ray closed his eyes (like an imbecile) and, in a quick, jerking motion, smashed his lips to Mick’s cheek before pulling back, his face already turning a brilliant red.

Mick sighed and rolled his eyes. apparently, if you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself, apparently. You can’t rely on your teammates for _everything_.

Without breaking eye contact, he put his hand around Ray’s neck, pulled him in closer, and brought their lips together. Ray startled and made a sound like he’d been socked in the stomach, before wrapping his arms around Mick and pulling him closer.

And it was fine.


End file.
